


Summer/Stream

by storyskein



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: All present and accounted for here, Also a sleeping one, Canon Related, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, Outdoor Sex, Post-Canon, Why yes I do have a stream motif why do you ask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyskein/pseuds/storyskein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke go to the stream to wash the day away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer/Stream

**Author's Note:**

> So this was actually the first Bellamy/Clarke fic I wrote. It's been lingering around my files for awhile, and what better time than the present for some nice fluff and smut? Written around 3.8, thus the lack of nuclear reactor angst.

The summer air around Arkadia is thick and hot, and the crickets and cicadas are tuning up for their evening symphony. Bellamy’s shirt clings to him as he stretches up from digging the last post hole for the livestock extension. A work light encircles him with harsh, fluorescent light. He knows he should have gone in for dinner, knows that he has to make an effort. But it’s still hard, even after their victory in Polis, and sometimes what he needs is sweaty hard work. Not the lingering stares in the mess hall.

Just as he knocks the last bit of mud off of the digger he hears the grass rustle with light footsteps. She walks so lightly now after her three months in the woods; sometimes she can even manage to sneak up on him. But the wind isn’t blowing tonight, and there’s nothing in the stillness to camouflage her sounds.

“I can’t believe you missed stew night,” Clarke says. She is just beyond the light, standing in the blue-shadows of an early summer’s night.

Bellamy snorts and can’t help the smirk. He’d rather feed the mess hall’s stew to the camp dog no matter how hungry he was.

Bellamy reaches over to the lamp, flips the switch off. Darkness engulfs him, and neon spots blinker in his vision. “Sorry to miss it. I know it’s your specialty.”

“I saved you a bowl.”

He laughs. “Fuck you, Griffin.”

His vision has started to adjust to the night, and he can see her grin. “Come on, Blake. You take the shovel, I’ll carry the lamp. Let’s go to the stream and clean you up.”

Clarke holds out her hand, and Bellamy takes it.

The spring-fed stream is half a mile away, and by the time they reach it both of them are soaked in sweat. The summer chorus is in full swing: crickets, frogs, cicadas, owls. The fireflies have mostly gone to bed for the evening, but a few are still lazily flickering, buoyed in the balmy air.

Bellamy still wonders how he and Clarke happened sometimes. It was so easy, after they destroyed the City of Light, to come back here and just be together. She had made the first move, knocking on his door after the first week back, sitting on the lone desk chair, confessing everything. He had held her hand as she apologized and wept, cradling her and shushing her like he did for Octavia when Octavia was young, and so hurt, so confused. Then he offered Clarke moonshine, and they drank and passed out.

The next night she just followed him to his room. This time, she sat on the bed, and he sat in the chair, and he told her everything. Tears dripped down his face and he shook with the horror of what he had done. Clarke had crawled into his lap and held him to her. In that moment, he realized that _he_ had never been held like that before.

Needless to say, she offered him the moonshine, and they drank until they passed out.

From then on, it was different. Easy. Unspoken. Three days later she moved her stuff into his quarters. And that was that.

*

The stream is their favorite place. The whole camp knows about the stream, of course, but no one else comes to it at night. But after everything, neither Bellamy or Clarke are afraid of things like shadows.

“Come here.” Clarke beckons him with her hands after he sets down the shovel and lamp. He walks over to her, stands right in front of her. It might have been easy for them to fit together, but it’s still _new_ , and there’s a hunger to her eyes as she regards him. “Take off your shirt.”

Bellamy’s fingers find the hem, and he tugs it over his head and throws it into the stream to soak. “Your turn.”

Clarke’s eyebrow arches, but she complies. Impatient, though, in the next ten seconds she’s discarded her pants and shirt and stands in front of him in her Ark-issued bra and underwear. It should be unattractive, or at least only serviceable, but on her the gray underwear and blue bra look perfect.

Clarke steps into him, close enough so that their skin is fused together in the heat. His dick hardens, and she grins up at him, wiggling her hips. “Ready for a swim?” She hooks her fingers on the waistband band of his pants and pulls down both his pants and briefs. With them still puddled around his ankles, she bolts for the stream, laughter streaming a banner behind her.

They float lazily for a while in the deep part of the pool, cooling off, watching the stars blink down at them. But he can’t take the separation from her for long, and pulls her into him. Her hardened nipples graze against his chest. He dips his head down and lays kisses along her throat, lapping up the sweet water droplets from her neck.

“Come on.” He grabs her waist and pulls her from the stream and onto the grassy bank. Clarke unfurls on her back, opens her legs, and pulls his hips in between her legs.

Sometimes, when they fuck, Clarke bites down on a strip of leather to keep from screaming. They fuck the demons out of each other; they fuck until they’re so exhausted they collapse.

But other times, like this, it’s…quiet, somehow muted, gentle even if there’s an undercurrent of desperation. Clarke’s body is strong beneath his, hardened by the years on the ground, but still somehow soft. And with those fucking fantastic breasts.

Bellamy brushes his thumb over the nipples, leans his head down and sucks hard. Clarke wraps one arm around his neck and reaches the other hand to stroke his dick. Her eyes are open wide and aroused as she watches herself stroking him.

Bellamy slides his hand between her thighs. “You’re soaked, Clarke.” He can see the sheen of it in the moonlight, slicking the top of her thighs.

She’s completely unashamed about it, and he fucking loves that.

“Then I guess you need to fuck me.” Clarke cants her hips to him, moving her hands to his ass and pulling him into her.

Bellamy groans, forehead to hers, and pushes the rest of the way inside. She feels fucking amazing, hot and tight, and with his body still cool from the swim he just wants to luxuriate in it. He gently pushes her knees back, then pulls up his right leg, braces his weight on it, and thrusts into her.

Clarke’s mouth drops open, and she can only give a low whine. He pulls all the way out, until just the tip of his dick is inside her, then thrusts his full length in again.

“Fuck, Bellamy!”

“Hold your knees apart,” he commands gently. Bellamy kisses her, lips soft against hers. “I want to fuck you.”

Clarke complies, silently. He wants to tease her about it, but in typical Clarke fashion she might do it, but only if she can still have the upper hand somehow and…She starts squeezing her cunt around his dick and _oh my fucking god_. He’s so startled he almost comes right then.

She giggles, blue eyes gleeful, until he thrust back into her, hard. Her eyes snap shut, and her mouth drops open in a silent moan. Clarke’s fingernails scrape along his back, gripping his ass as she meets him thrust for thrust. The fleshy sounds of their fucking add to the night symphony; crickets and grasshoppers and owls and finally a breeze whispering in the grass around them.

Clarke comes first, her flesh flickering around him. Her back arches, her hips furiously seek the friction. Bellamy releases after, pulling out and spilling on the grass.

“Considerate,” Clarke whispers to him, teasing, a moment later. He’s on his back, and she’s curled into his side, tracing swirls onto his skin. The implants still work, but who wants to clean up if they don’t have to? 

“I’m always a gentleman, Griffin.”

She nips his ribs in lieu of a response.

Clarke pulls their clothes from the stream and spreads them on some bushes to dry, then lies back down beside him.

“Just a few minutes to let the clothes dry,” Clarke says, yawning against his chest.

*

Bellamy wakes to Clarke straddling him. She looks at him, eyebrow raised in silent question, and he nods. Clarke pulls him into her in one smooth motion and rides him. It’s fast and silent. He tries to pull out to come, but she grips his fingers to her hips and she shakes her head. Clarke bends down, breasts dragging along his chest as she fucks him. She whispers, “I want you in me. All day,” into his ear. Clarke then kisses him, takes his groans into her mouth. 

His hips arc into her with the force of his release, fingers flexing into the flesh of her hips. Clarke follows right after, golden morning light gilding her shoulders.

They rest for a few minutes, Clarke's body curled over his, but it can't last. They pull on their still damp clothes, lace up their boots. Bellamy makes quick work of braiding Clarke's hair and kisses the nape of her neck when he's done. 

Soft pink streaks the sky, and the night chorus has given way to the silence of the dawn. Dew clings to the long, green, hay-making grass. The walk back to camp is too fast, but even as they’re reluctant to give up the night, Arkadia needs them.

“Biscuits,” Clarke sniffs as they approach the East Gate.

“And they might be edible since you’re not on kitchen duty today.”

She swats him. “Ass.”

Bellamy leans down and kisses her, tongue gracing hers. She twines her arms around his neck and pulls him down to her.

“See you at dinner?” Clarke asks after she pulls away, eyes searching his face. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you at dinner.” He leans down to give her one last kiss. “Have a good day.”

Bellamy watches her walk away, and something akin to happiness unfurls in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs:  
>  _All My Heart_ by The Mynabirds  
>  _Constellations_ by Balmorhea
> 
> Thanks to: @skikru and @aimnicrob for feedback


End file.
